‘One hundred?’ Sarah blurts. She glances down at the envelope.

‘Yes. Now, please.’ He leaves her staring at the paper, taking his seat up behind his desk, completely ignorant to her gaping mouth. She flicks me a murderous look. It’s then I realise that it’s the envelope Sally gave him.

One hundred thousand? That’s way too much. What’s he thinking? I want to say something. Should I say something? I look at Sarah. She’s stood there scrutinising me, pursing her red lips. I don’t blame her. I just want to crawl under the sofa and die. One hundred thousand? Christ, she already thinks I’m after his money.

‘That’s all, Sarah.’ Jesse dismisses her and she turns to leave, but not before throwing a scowl in my direction.

She saunters over to the door, meeting John at the threshold. He nods at her before moving to the side to let her pass, shutting the door behind her. He flicks me a nod, and I smile before resuming the picking of my salad and steak. Yeah, my appetite has run for the hills. I need to speak to him and ask what role that woman plays in his life. And why does she hate me so much? I place the tray back on the coffee table to pour some wine, but I notice Pete’s only brought one glass, so I take myself over to the side board, collect a tumbler for myself and return to the sofa to pour the wine. When I place the glass on Jesse’s desk, John stops talking and they both look at the glass, then to me.

Jesse picks it up, handing it back to me. ‘I’m fine, thank you, baby,’ He smiles. ‘I’m driving.’

‘Oh,’ I take the glass back. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be, you have it. I got the wine for you.’

I take my place on the sofa, picking up a magazine called SuperBike. It’s the only one so it will have to do.

I start flicking through, loosing myself in the articles on superbikes, MotoGP and getting myself over excited when I find a section especially devoted to superbike passengers or riding pillion, as I now know it to be termed. Is Jesse’s a superbike? I read the rules of riding pillion, along with an article entitled “Safety First”. I’ll make him wear leathers, if it’s the last thing I do. I’m completely lost in details of four-stroke engines, horsepower ratings and the approaching Milan Motorcycle show, when I feel warm hands wrap around my neck from behind. I drop my head back to look at his upside down features.

He blesses me with his roguish grin. ‘I’ve started something, haven’t I?’ He bends and drops his lips onto my forehead.

‘Why haven’t you upgraded to the 1198?’

He smiles. ‘I have, but I prefer the 1098.’

‘Oh, how many do you have?’

‘Twelve.’

‘Twelve? Are they all superbikes?’

He laughs lightly. ‘Yes, Ava, they’re all superbikes. Come on, I’m taking you home.’

I place the magazine back on the table and begin to unravel my folded body. ‘You know, you should be wearing leathers.’ I push casually.

‘I know I should.’ He takes my hand, leading me to the door.

‘So, why don’t you?’

‘I’ve rode bikes since I…’ He halts mid-sentence and glances down at me. ‘For many years,’

‘You’re going to have to reveal an age at some point.’

He looks at me, and I smile brightly, earning myself a return beam for Jesse. ‘Maybe.’ he says quietly. If he’s rode bikes for years, then he should appreciate the dangers.

We walk through The Manor, finding Sam and Drew at the bar. Sam’s obviously not seeing Kate tonight. He looks his usual self, as does Drew, with his black suit and perfectly placed black hair.

‘My man!’ Sam cheers. ‘Ava, I love your Little Miss knickers.’ He hands me a familiar gym bag.

I die a thousand deaths on the spot. He went through my underwear drawer? The cheeky swine! Feeling my face flame, I glance up at Jesse to see anger pouring from his entire being. Oh, Sam!

‘Don’t push your fucking luck, Sam.’ he warns, his tone super serious. Sam’s grin fades as he puts his hands up in submission.

Drew exhales, shaking his head and placing his beer on the bar. ‘There’s a line, Sam.’ he says in agreement to Jesse’s reaction towards Sam’s inappropriate comment.

‘Hey, I’m sorry.’ Sam grumbles, looking at me with a hint of a grin breaking free.

I glance around the bar. It’s really busy. There are plenty of people milling about, all chatting, many putting their hand up in acknowledgment to Jesse, but none of them approach him. I feel the same animosity from the women in here as I did in the summer room. I’m seriously stepping on some toes by being here. Is Jesse aware of all these admirers? I feel like I’ve poached him. And now I’m certain that the repeat business is based solely on The Lord of the Manor and his devastating looks.

‘I’m taking Ava home,’ Jesse takes the gym bag from me. ‘Are you running tomorrow?’ he asks Sam.

‘Nah, I might be tied up.’ He grins at me.

I feel my colour deepen. I’ll never get use to his forwardness and lurid comments. I shake my head at the cheeky swine. ‘Where’s Kate?’ I ask. I should call her.

‘She had a few deliveries to do. She got all excited about taking Margo Junior out on her maiden voyage. I got dumped for a pink van,’ He takes a swig of his beer. ‘I’m heading over when I’m done here.’

‘Done what?’ Drew asks on a raised brow.

‘Fuck you.’ Sam spits.

Done what, exactly?

Jesse starts pulling me out of the bar. ‘Bye, lads. Tell Kate, Ava’s with me.’ he calls over his shoulder. I wave my free hand to them as I’m hauled from the bar. They both raise their bottles in goodbye, both grinning.

I’m escorted out of The Manor to Jesse’s Aston Martin, really rather quickly. He opens the passenger door for me to get in.

‘I want to go on the bike.’ I complain. I’m addicted.

‘Right now, I want you in lace, not leather. Get in the car.’ His eyes have turned wickedly dark and promising. When did that happen?

I get in the car, clenching my thighs together, and wait for him to slide in next to me. He starts the car, quickly reversing out and kicking up the gravel as he flies off down the driveway towards the gates. He’s on a mission. I know he was pissed off when Sarah walked in on us. A few minutes later, she could have had the perfect view of Jesse’s tight arse greet her. Or has she seen it before? I inwardly vomit. God, I hope not. I glance over at the gorgeous profile of the man sat next to me, all relaxed as he drives. He flicks his eyes to me before returning them to the road. I can tell he’s trying his hardest not to smile.

‘One hundred thousand pounds is a massive overpayment.’ I say coolly.

‘Is it?’

‘You know it is.’ I look at him challengingly as he fights the smile threatening to breakout across his lovely face.

‘You’re underselling yourself.’

‘I must be the most expensive hooker ever.’ I flip, watching his lips press into a straight line.

‘Ava, if you refer to yourself in that way again…’

‘I was joking.’

‘Do you see me laughing?’